Children of the Storm
by Sour Schuyler
Summary: The rain is giving Sango a headache, but that's nothing compared to the eager monk who compares his dream girl to a radish. It seems children never really stop ragging on each other, even in a storm.


A spurt of lightning forked across the medieval sky, lighting up half of Sango's world as she peered outside the pelts that covered the crude shack's doorway. The rest of her world, the world inside the shack, was irrefutably dark. They hadn't thought it wise to build a fire inside of it, and the flame they had kindled outside had long been doused out by the decadent smatters of rain.

She turned around and sighed into the murkiness of the hut, gathering the attention of two young eyes. She narrowed hers. "Don't stare at me, Miroku," she warned.

"What time is it?" cried young Shippo, trying to interrupt the prospective skirmish between Sango and the perverse monk that was crouching in the corner.

Sango gave the tiny kitsune a wistful sigh. "I don't know," she confessed.

"Usually," spoke the monk, "we could tell the time by the positioning of the sun or the stars, but since it is a cloudy and quite violently raining night we can't use either."

"Oh." Shippo shivered. Sango took one of the pelts away from its hanging position on the doorframe and handed it to the young fox, who looked it over gingerly and not without disgust. Eventually he garbed it by wrapping it around his tiny shoulders.

"Although," Miroku considered, "Kagome does have some sort of time-telling machine."

"But Kagome's back in her world," Sango snapped, "so it won't do us any good."

Miroku's eyes widened as he wondered why he was being chastised now. "Calm down, Lady Sango," he tried to say charmingly, but she turned a cold shoulder towards him. "Aww."

"Don't be such a pervert, Miroku," Shippo admonished.

Miroku threw up his hands in a wild gesture. "But I haven't even gotten to do anything perverted yet!" he complained. "I mean…"

"I'll take that as incriminating evidence," Sango said as thunder boomed al fresco. The tiny shack rattled with the winds and the forces of the Earth.

Miroku sighed. "Sango, Sango, Sango. You don't understand."

At this point in the conversation her eyes became disbelieving slits. "I understand that you're a pervert, monk," she accused.

"But I—"

Another loud clap of thunder applauded their pettiness, scaring young Shippo into fleeing and pressing himself against Miroku's shoulder. The purple-clad Monk sighed.

"No offense, Shippo, but you aren't who I want pressed against me." But Shippo's eyes were wide with fear, and he was making nonsensical noises, so Miroku sighed and politely put his arm around the fox demon.

"I guess all you've got is Shippo, then," Sango teased.

Miroku's face lit up quite charmingly. "Come and join us, Lady Sango!"

"…No," was the deadpan reply. "I don't think so."

Miroku sighed. "Awww! Why not?" he asked naggingly.

"Because you're a pervert, that's why."

"Why do people keep accusing me of thus when I haven't acted in any perverse way tonight?" Miroku wondered. Sango rolled her eyes. "If I promise not to touch you in any way, will you come and sit by me?" he pleaded.

"Pervert" was the reply that Sango automatically whipped out. "I'm monitoring the storm. I'm staying here by the doorframe."

"Well, not to put a damper on your excuse, but…" and here the monk's face lit up once again, "if you take the pelts off of the doorway you can see the storm from here! We could monitor it together!"

Sango blushed. "Then the inside of the shack would get wet," she insisted. "And don't look at me like that."

Miroku innocently gave her what was probably an accidentally cute face. "Like what?" he asked.

Sango looked away. "…Just don't look at me," she said, frowning. Since when was she gaga for cute faces like that anyway? She stole a sideways glance at the monk, who was cheekily presenting her with his award-winning smile. Her heart skipped a beat.

"Damn it…" The demon slayer turned to the small, evenly breathing mass next to the source of her disturbance. "Is Shippo sleeping?"

There was a pause. "No," Shippo finally mewed under the heavy pelt. "I'm awake." Another pause, and then the kitsune added, "_Somebody's _got to chaperone you two."

"Ah, Shippo!" Miroku sweat dropped. "That really isn't necessary you know."

Sango smiled. "Thank you, Shippo. Would _you _like a hug?"

Shippo stirred sleepily. "Maybe later," he decided.

"_I _want a hug!" Miroku whined childishly. He stood up suddenly and extended his arms to Sango in grand fashion. "Lady Sango, please hug _me_!"

"What a baby," Sango mused, and Miroku, stricken, sat back down with widened eyes.

"She thinks I'm a baby?" he complained to himself.

"I can hear you, you know."

"I can hear that you hear me, you know," Miroku said back.

There was a pause. "I can hear that you can hear me hear you," Sango challenged.

"I can hear that you can hear me hear you hear me," Miroku said unsurely.

"Oh brother," Shippo said, rolling over onto his side and placing his entire body under the shaggy fur of the pelt, having no longer the warmth of Miroku's body. Sango flushed for a moment, thinking about how much warmer the small fox demon must be when sitting near Miroku.

"Lady Sango?"

Sango turned to the monk. "What is it?" she said guardedly.

"You're blushing."

This just made her blush even more. "S…So?" she demanded. She received an impish smile.

"You're obviously sick! Come and sit next to me and I will tend to you!"

"Not a chance."

"Awww…"

Sango leaned against the doorframe, dully regarding the outside world. Rain pelted the ground, and the demon slayer had this feeling that if she went outside it would feel like her skin was being pricked by a multitude of small icicles.

"Whoever gets caught out in this storm isn't lucky," Sango said with a smile sigh. "I hope Inuyasha doesn't bring Kagome back from her world into this."

"They'd probably just go back until the storm here subsided," Miroku suggested.

"I hope so."

"Hmm." She decided to assume that was a term of agreement. Looking out and up, her eyes met a crisscross of lightning that seemed as if it would light up all of Japan. It certainly looked like daylight outside now…

"You know, I bet storms would be a problem for those flying machines Kagome was talking about earlier. What did she call them? Planes?" Miroku rubbed his chin.

"Growing a beard?" Sango asked with one eyebrow raised.

"No, I'm rubbing my chin thoughtfully."

"I didn't know that you were capable of thought." Miroku gave her a genuinely hurt look, and she did feel quite bad. She was above apologizing, though. She wouldn't give in.

"These flying machines… wouldn't a storm be a huge threat to them?" Miroku repeated. "What do you think?"

"I don't know. I've never been to Kagome's world. I've never seen a flying machine," Sango said. "It would be really nice to visit Kagome's world, but I guess I like it when things are simpler sometimes." She peeked outside again. "Hm… I guess it hasn't stopped raining," she said as her forelocks became soaked. She took a few steps away from the door.

Miroku placed his hand in his chin. "Simpler?" he repeated, smiling. "I guess you picked the wrong lifestyle then."

"This lifestyle _is _simple," Sango argued. "Kagome's always complaining about all of these tests and exams. I don't have any of those."

"You have tests of courage and strength in battle, you're just too busy to notice that you've passed them all with flying colors," Miroku complimented. Sango rolled her eyes.

"How long did it take you to come up with that one?"

"I have no idea what you mean."

"Sure." A cold wind rushed up from underneath the pelts and chilled Sango. "I-If I come over there, you promise not to touch me?" she asked delicately.

Miroku nodded furiously. "Oh yes! Oh yes! Of course!"

Sango sweat dropped. "I must be an idiot," she decided, but her feet sauntered over next to the monk and sat down gingerly next to the monk. Shippo was sleeping a few feet away.

"Is your battle armor warmer then your regular clothing?" Miroku asked. Sango gave him a tentative glare, and asked him why he was wondering. "Well, you seem cold, and I've never seen you shiver in your armor. Perhaps, if I put my arm around you…"

"Don't touch me," Sango snapped.

"Sorry, sorry." Miroku hung his head dejectedly.

"And yes, it is warmer."

He grinned, and his head rose up again. "That's probably because it's tighter," he observed happily. Sango glared at him. "…And blacker. Kagome said that the color black attracts the sun, didn't she?"

Sango nodded. "Yes…"

The shack seemed to pitch itself towards one side. Sango gasped. If the shack flew apart then they'd have to hide amongst the trees, and there were certain demons that preyed on just such victims. Not to mention little Shippo would be in for a rude awakening.

"…What did you say Miroku?" Sango asked as the shack settled back down, after she'd sighed in enormous relief.

"I said, 'A flying machine would also provide a shelter, though.' It isn't as if Kagome's world has uncovered planes." Miroku paused.

"Kohaku can fly," he said.

Sango turned. "What?"

"I said, your brother. You know, the one taken in by Naraku and who's been doing some of his dirty work because he's under Naraku's control. He can fly. Not actually, of course, but technically, when he flies on the large leaf that Kagura uses to flee…"

Sango eyes widened. "He could be out there," she said, horrified. "He could be flying in the rain right now!"

"I doubt that Kagura would want to get herself entangled in this weather," Miroku assured her. He put a hand on her shoulder. "I didn't mean to scare you, Sango. I meant only that Kohaku has experienced the joys of flight."

"Kirara can fly."

"Yes, but… where is she, anyhow?" Miroku asked, with a pouty expression on his face that said he was annoyed with himself for being distracted from his train of thought.

Sango sighed. "I don't know. I hope she doesn't get sick out in this rain."

"I'm sure she's found somewhere to hide," Miroku tried to assure her. "Like maybe in a tree with some squirrels, or…"

"The squirrel demons around here are said to be perilous," Sango lied, just to get on Miroku's nerves. The monk's eyes narrowed.

"Alright, I see that I can't win here."

"Get your hand off of my shoulder."

"Alright."

The two were silent for a short wild afterward. After a bit, however, Sango realized that the harsh pattering of rain outside was drowning out the soft mumblings of the monk beside her.

"What are you saying?" she inquired, not without suspicion. Miroku ignored her, which surprised her. "Miroku, I asked you—"

"Not now Lady Sango."

'Lady' Sango fell over in an undignified fashion. "What do you mean?" she hissed, unsure of why she was being quiet. Besides Shippo being asleep near them, the mood just didn't seem right for loud chatter.

After a few more minutes, Miroku turned to Sango. "It wouldn't have taken so long if you hadn't interrupted."

"What were you doing?" Sango asked curiously.

Miroku shrugged. "Reciting a mantra," he said simply. "I'm a monk."

"What were you praying for?" Sango couldn't help but wonder. Did this stupid monk ask Buddha for more chances to grope people? Surely that was a sin. It most likely was.

Miroku smiled at her. "Fair weather, that all of our companions are safe, children. Simple, normal things." He smiled at her, in a way that made her grin back. But then it struck her.

"You prayed for _children_?" she said incredulously, as it if was the most perverted thing she'd ever heard. Miroku glanced at her innocently.

"I prayed for children, not sex," he said bluntly. His frankness made Sango blush.

"…Oh."

"Yeah." Miroku shifted slightly. The rings on his staff tickled against one another, emitting small metallic sounds. "Don't you ever want children someday, Sango?"

Ooh, that question was deliberately planned. "Not with you," she said disgustedly. She felt ashamed afterward; Miroku looked so crushed, as if his ego, already piqued, had been flattened.

"Well, what about without me?" he asked.

"I guess so. Children are nice… almost every woman wants children," Sango decided after a minute. Miroku gave her a wry look, and her face reddened. "O-Or I would imagine that it's so," she stuttered.

"Ah," Miroku sighed. "That's interesting."

Sango glared at him. "And just _how _is it interesting?" was her interrogation.

"Well, if almost every woman wants a child, then surely I can find one woman out there who would be willing to bear mine. One worthy of your approval, that is. It seems every time I find one you get angry for some reason…" Miroku tried to give what Sango assumed he hoped was a shy smile, but it just came off looking lecherous.

"Why is that, Sango? I'm asking you frankly here. I really would like to know. Maybe you have some ill sentiment against me? After all, should I die in battle, I would really like an heir to continue my fight against Naraku."

"If Inuyasha hasn't killed him yet," Sango added. "And me. I want a piece of him myself."

Miroku grunted. "We all do," he said seriously.

"Hm."

"However, I think Inuyasha wants a piece of him the most." Miroku thought for a second, then explained this. "While I may lose my life, and you've lost your entire village… Inuyasha has lost a true love."

Sango stirred angrily. "I lost my _family! _I _loved _my family and the others in my village!" she claimed. "I love Kohaku! I miss everyone dearly! At least Inuyasha's _found _love!" Sango exclaimed, alluding to the burgeoning romance between the half-demon and Kagome that everyone could see except for the two of them.

Miroku winced. "I see I should've kept my mouth shut."

"You got that right!"

"Um, but while we're on the subject… speaking of people you love…"

Sango face faulted. "We're on that topic?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Sango… I've been meaning to ask…" Miroku gave Sango an intent gaze that seeped under her skin. "Were you betrothed before Naraku slaughtered all those around you?"

Sango turned her head away with a sharp _hmph. _"That's none of your business!"

"Was there anyone special, Sango?" Miroku placed one hand on Sango's shoulder and another one her thigh.

The demon slayer bristled. "Monk, you better let go of me."

"But of course." And he actually did.

The rain continued to pour outside. Sango had a sudden striking thought that the whole world would flood, and she'd be left alone here with this perverted monk, and then she'd _have _to bear his children.

"Pardon?" she'd missed something that he'd said.

"I said, 'so there was someone special, then?' Was there?" Miroku leaned very close to her. She shoved him away.

"Don't be such a pervert," she growled. "And…" Her face softened. "No. There was no one. Doesn't matter; no one would've really wanted to marry a rough girl like me, I'd imagine. It still wasn't all that common in our village for girls to be quite so adept at demon slaying as I was."

"Am," Miroku corrected. "As you _are_."

"Thank you."

"Just 'telling it like it is,' in the words of Kagome."

"Speaking of Kagome, when you first met her, did you ask _her _to bear your child?" Sango wondered. Miroku blushed and sputtered, indicating that he had. He went on to say how Kagome had looked at him like he had suddenly grown three heads, and how Inuyasha had become belligerent.

"Hm…" Sango leaned her head against his shoulder. Miroku made a small noise of surprise, then shifted so that she would be more comfortable.

Miroku had never actually, formally asked Sango to bear his children. And of course Sango would say no, even if he did. But some days down the road… Sango's eyes misted over.

"Monk?"

"Yes, Sango?"

"How many women have you asked to bear your children altogether?"

"Eh…" Miroku scratched the back of his neck. He was sweat dropping. "I lost count."

"Were any of them special to you?" she asked. With a startling _thump _one of the demon pelts fell from the doorframe and landed on the floor. This left a slat in their poor doorway through which cold winds could enter. And they did. Sango shivered slightly in her civilian attire. She was sure that the monk wanted to wrap his arm around her. She knew that he was aware that his ill reputation would make the benign gesture seem wicked in her eyes. Of this she was grateful, since she probably would've felt too happy to receive warmth from the perverted monk.

"Miroku," she murmured. I can't believe I'm sitting like this with you, she thought. "Miroku, you haven't answered in a long time."

"There were a few," came the crushing answer, "that I thought were truly special at the time. Lately I've realized how terribly shallow of me that was."

"No kidding," Sango mumbled.

"But I do know of one girl I'd really, really love to bear my child," Miroku said fondly. Sango's eyes narrowed.

"Oh?" She readied her hand to strike.

"Yes… but she'll say no, I'm quite sure of it. So I am not going to ask."

"Oh…" Sango's fist dropped back down to her side. "I see."

"Uh-huh."

"Is she pretty?" Sango asked, fishing for compliments under the assumption that the woman Miroku is enamored of was her.

Miroku smiled. "She is beautiful like a radish."

Sango stood up and reached for her large boomerang, the Hairokotsu. "Radishes are boorish vegetables!" she yelled. "They aren't 'beautiful' like you say!"

Miroku gave her an odd look. " 'Boorish...?' " he repeated. "And I meant that she, like a radish, looks delicious. "Long, and shapely, the _daikon _is truly a vegetable of the palatable variety."

"You're an idiot!"

"Why are you so upset about it? Who said I was comparing _you _to a radish, Lady Sango?" Miroku's eyes twinkled.

Sango faltered. "You're… You're such an idiot! You're comparing women to food! Do you want to marry this girl or eat her!"

Miroku's eyes twinkled. "What do you think?" he warbled. Sango's face hardened with anger, as the sparkle in his eye taunted her. "Who do you think I'm enamored with?" it seemed to be saying. "You think it's you, don't you?"

"I think any girl would have to be a moron to come within three feet of you," Sango concluded.

"But you're only two away from me, Sango dear!"

"Quiet!" Sango's blood was boiling. The juices flowing through her head and heart were all that she could hear as she contemplated smacking Miroku with her Hairokotsu. Everything was quiet. Everything. The only sounds were the small sighs of Shippo.

"…Is something wrong, Sango dear? You seem to be breathing quite irregularly." Miroku grinned. "You know, as a monk, I'm also gifted at curing many _ailments_! Perhaps I could—"

"It stopped raining," Sango said hypnotically. Miroku blinked. Standing, he made his way over to the door and peeked through the slat the fallen pelt had left.

"You're right," he said. "…That was sudden. I suppose we should go out and look for Kirara now."

Sango nodded. "I guess," she said, suddenly at a loss. She felt as if she had just lost a good thing, although she'd felt nothing short of tortured for the last hour.

"Sango come look at this." Miroku suddenly grabbed her hand and dragged her outside. Grabbing her hand, he pointed upwards. Sango, suddenly feeling wearier than she had realized she was, followed the angle of her arm until she was looking at a fantastic rainbow, sparkling just underneath the ominous gray clouds.

"It's lovely," Miroku said, and then slyly added, "just like you, Sango."

"Oh please," she groaned. Just then she felt a hand stroking what wasn't quite her thigh.

A resounding smack echoed through the waterlogged hills. Shippo walked out just at that moment.

"Did you two fight the entire time I was asleep?" Sango and Miroku turned to him, a blush spilling over her face, a grin encompassing his. "Oh brother." Shippo rolled his eyes. "You don't even have to tell me. You two are such children," he murmured, stifling a yawn.


End file.
